Four Months
by Aki and Tenshi
Summary: Four months after the angels fell. It had been four months of Cas kissing Dean in random, private moments. Of Dean letting him. Of neither speaking a word about it. Four months when Dean decided to speak up. "Is not kissing a way that humans show affection?" Cas asked. (Rated T for an instance of the F-Bomb) *if you want destiel kisses, this is your fic*


It's not what Dean expected, Cas stripped of his angelic powers, the same and different. They had been here before, after all.

Cas must've forgotten how humanity felt. Last time he fell, it was slow. This time it was a fast and sudden crash into earth and mortality. It took getting used to, Dean supposed. Humanity was all Dean ever had.

So Dean watched Cas adjust. Cas wasn't so good at dealing with the simple biological baggage of humanity. He'd get hungry, stomach growling loud enough for both Sam and Dean to hear if they were in his presence, but not realize it was a cue for him to eat. He'd hit his funny bone and overreact to the pain. And yeah, Dean understood a whacked elbow hurt like a mofo, but it was hardly damaging.

Cas did other odd things too. When he and Dean were alone, whether in the bunker, or a motel room, or even the impala – Cas would reach out with his fingertips and touch Dean's face. It was weird, but weird was sort of Cas' defining adjective. It got weirder.

After he touched, Cas would apply just enough pressure – Dean unresisting – to tilt Dean's head to the best available angle for Cas to press a kiss to Dean's mouth. And Dean let him.

The kisses were always short and simple and never discussed. There was no sexual heat behind them, but there was a certain give and take.

Dean had never been kissed like this before. If he was in a mood for excuses, he would reason that it was only curiosity that allowed him to allow Cas to continue. To identify what exactly these kisses were.

There were a few things that Dean could remember feeling like he had 'never been kissed like this before.' With Cassie he had his first kisses while in love. With Lisa – she and Ben still pained him to think about – he had his first "domestic" kisses. There had been a content-ness about them – pecks hello, a kiss good morning, relationship kisses that weren't intended to press, just be.

Cas' kisses were something else. Dean didn't know what.

The kisses were without pattern, excepting that Cas only ever did it when they were alone – a fact Dean was grateful for. They were usually sitting together too, but not always. It was never emotionally heightened situations. Never a specific time of day nor around a specific topic of conversation. Sometimes it occurred days in a row, but there had been gaps of a week or so without them even though there had been 'ideal' opportunities.

It had been four months of this. Four months after the angels fell. Four months of Sammy healing from the failed trails. They did occasional hunts, the three of them working out a new dynamic, but retreated back to the bunker in between. Sam got worn out faster now. Cas wasn't particularly good at not getting hurt, never really having to worry about it before. Dean got exhausted looking after them both. Four months of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn't.

Metatron must've been content with what he achieved, because there had not been a peep of him since. And with Crowley out of commission – half-cured from demonhood and currently contained in the bunker's dungeon until they could figure out what to do with him – the demons were leaderless. There was probably a power struggled ongoing in hell, but it hadn't spilled over onto earth as of yet.

It had been four months of Cas kissing Dean in random, private moments. Of Dean letting him. Of neither speaking a word about it. Four months when Dean decided to speak up. Sam was asleep. He slept a lot since the trails. Almost made Dean long for the days Sam barely slept after Jess's death, except not.

Cas and Dean were sitting at the main table, caddie corner from each other. There were papers in front of them. In their spare time the three of them had been reading through the Men of Letter's resources. The more you know, and all that.

That when Cas did his thing. Reached out, caught Dean's chin with his fingertips, turned Dean's head, leaned in to press a kiss, stayed there for a moment, pulled back, sank back into his seat.

"Cas," Dean voiced. Cas' eyes, which had returned to the papers, snapped back up to Dean. "Why do you…?"

Cas blinked, then stared, then said, "Because I want you to know."

Cas must've gotten better at reading human expression because he read and reacted to the 'need to clarify you vague and often oblivious motherfucker' look of Dean's that Dean had first patented and now perfected since Cas had come into his life.

"Is not kissing a way that humans show affection?" Cas asked.

"Yes, but…" Dean made a rough hand gesture that had no discernible meaning. "Kissing on the lips is usually for lovers."

Lovers? Really? Did he really just use the term _lovers_?

Cas tilted his head, eyes squinted slightly. It was a purely Cas expression that would look ridiculous on any other adult human. Hell, even looked ridiculous on Cas, but he owned it. Then with confusion, but complete assurance, Cas said, "I love you."

Dean coughed and shifted in his seat. They had spoken in terms of profound bonds, need, and kinship. _Love_ had always been something left implicit in all that, even familial love. But Cas had different understanding of love from his angelship. It was more than possible he didn't get what he sounded like, what he was acting like. That was sort of what Dean was counting on.

"Not everyone you love, like, like family is your lover," Dean explained. "Lover means—"

"I know what it means." It was almost a snap. Cas just snapped at him. "Like spouses, soul mates, significant others."

Dean was tempted to add 'one night stands' to Cas' list, but he knew it was just to be rude and break the tension into something else. He swallowed it down. Dean Winchester managed to swallow down a smartass comment, and he had to think it was because he didn't want to break the tension. He wanted to follow this moment where it went.

Surprisingly calm and put together for someone who just confessed love, Cas said, "If it's making you uncomfortable, I'll stop."

"No, I –"

Dean cut himself off. He scoffed and it was completely at himself. Cas sat there watching him, expression stoic. Dean rubbed a hand over him face and ducked his head. He was surprisingly calm himself, for just having someone confess their love to him.

Why couldn't he have let it stood? Dean had asked about the kisses because he had expected them to be a misunderstanding. Cas not quite getting the reference of a kiss on the lips. Yet, he, Dean, had let it continue, even when he thought it a misunderstanding, for four months.

Dean wanted things. He had always wanted things. But he had learned young and early to want things for himself was wrong. And to want certain things for himself was double wrong. He was supposed to want for the family, for the mission. He was supposed to want to hunt, to follow orders, to look out for Sammy. He wasn't supposed to make connections that were liabilities, that weren't family. You could have allies, comrades in arms, resources, but when that edged on even friends, that was dangerous. Emotional baggage held you back.

If John Winchester couldn't have the love of his life, how dare Dean?

There was something akin to a rock in Dean's throat. He forced a swallow – mouth dry – to no success.

If it had been anyone else, they would've been driven away by the length of Dean's silence. Perhaps angered by his lack of commitment, perhaps embarrassed to have admitted love to not hear it reflected back at them. But Cas waited, he could – was used to watching centuries – for Dean.

"You could tell me to stop and I would," Cas proposed into tension and the quiet, still calm, seemingly unperturbed by this option.

"Cas –"

Dean found it harder to go beyond that single word. He didn't want it stop, but he had too many things, complex and dark twisted around him and in him, to ask for it to be more.

"Or," Cas continued. "You could _not_ tell me to stop and things could continue as they were."

Dean was confused for a moment, but then understood the gift Cas offered now. To stop, all he had to say was stop, but to continue, he need say nothing at all. He didn't need to say continue or I love you too or I want this. All the things he was afraid to say, that were clogged up inside him because he wasn't used to letting them out.

So Dean stared at Cas and said nothing. It was a stare that was rebounded by Cas and lasted a while. That wasn't nothing new to him.

Sometime in that moment, Cas pressed a palm to the side of Dean's face, cupping it, more than he usually touched.

"Now that you understand." That was all Cas said before leaning in for the second time today and kissing Dean again. It was the first time Cas had ever kissed him twice in a single day, let alone a single hour. And if Dean responded more than he usually did, who was talking?


End file.
